The Apprentice
by WenchElle
Summary: A relic of my writing styles in 7th grade
1. An Idea

A/N: This is the first time one of my stories will leave the safety of my journal's leather bound covers to venture out into my world. Please be polite!

How torturous this past year had been for poor, unhappy Erik. Every day he sulked in the catacombs of the opera house, while the delicate song of Mademoiselle Daaè floated down from the stage 6 floors above. Matters became worse once he heard the horrible news that she had changed her name to Madame de Chagny. A deep stab went into his heart every evening at the opera when he heard Christine's name announced, as though the Vicomte was jeering, mocking him. Once, the thought crossed his mind that, in reality, all Raoul had ever done was love Christine, a crime he himself was guilty of, but the thought was banished almost at once, and his blind hatred for Monsieur le Vicomte bubbled back to the surface.

Now that his Don Juan Triumphant was finished, he had nothing to occupy his time. The managers were so frightened of him now, he needn't send his letters to them requesting his 20,000 francs or to keep Box 5 open; they just obliged.

Night after night, Erik lay in bed trying to push Christine from his thoughts, but her face always floated to the front of his mind.

"You must find something to occupy your time, Erik," the Ghost told himself again and again.

About 2 months after the year mark that Christine had left him, news came that the de Chagnys had given birth to a beautiful baby girl, and they had christened her Colette. It was the little girl that sprung an idea into Erik's genius mind. A child. He would take in a small boy and train him to become just like him. It was the perfect plan.

A/N: Ok so the first chapter sucks, it always does, but it gets so much better I swear!


	2. Little Jacques

A few days after little Colette's birth announcement, Erik departed from the safety of his underground home and ventured onto the streets of Paris. He walked only a few blocks before he reached the orphanage. The door was thick and heavy, and after he knocked it was opened by a little girl no older than six.

"What's wrong with your face? She asked disgustedly, pointing obscenely at Erik's mask. Just then an older woman appeared at the doorway.

"Now, now, Brigitte, do not be rude! Run along," the woman scolded, and the little girl scurried off into the depths of the house. Wiping her brow, the woman said, " I beg your pardon, monsieur. Children, you know…" she trailed off.

"It is quite alright, Madame. But I do believe we have other business to attend to. He gently inclined his head to her, but the expression on the caretaker's face was one of suspicion.

"And what would that be Monsieur-"

"Brunee," Erik invented on the spot, " Maurice Brunee. I wish to adopt one of your children. My wife and son have recently passed in a riding accident, and I do miss the laughter in my house…" Erik trailed off, faking a look of deepest melancholy. Apparently it worked, for the expression on the woman's face changed instantly from curiosity to pity.

"Come along dear," she said softly "I think I have just the child for you." She led him into the depths of the building, down a dark, narrow hallway towards the dormitories. Laughter rang throughout the entire place, but it was not normal laughter. It was spiced with pain, pity, sadness, and terrible loss of all the children who now had nothing. The giggles were eerie, and they made the hairs on the back of Erik's neck stand up. He passed one hand over his nape before following the caretaker into a room. It had close to 15 beds, but only one little boy sat on the end of one. He couldn't have been more than two, but he had more brown curls than any other child of his age. When Erik walked in the room however, his downcast hazel eyes met those of the Ghost's. For a moment they just stared at each other, until the caretaker finally broke the silence. "Monsieur Brunee, this is Jacques," She told Erik, smiling.

"Jacques," he repeated, almost in a whisper "how do you do?" The little boy made no sound, but got up from his seat and walked slowly towards the two adults. Then he broke into a run and buried his face in the leg of Erik's trousers. The Ghost grunted when the child hit him, but he looked happy as he picked him up and slung the boy over one hip.

"The poor boy has been at this orphanage his whole life," said the caretaker sadly. "His mother gave birth to him here and died within the hour. No father ever showed up." Erik nodded silently and stroked the boy's hair.

"I think we shall be perfect for each other then," the Ghost said, and strode out of the room. "Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth, and the truth isn't what it aught to be. In the dark it is easy to pretend…" Erik sang softly in the little boy's ear. This seemed to calm him, and he fell asleep the whole ride home.


End file.
